


take care

by mcukelsey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29753745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcukelsey/pseuds/mcukelsey
Summary: Steve and Natasha never saw it coming - a gruelling divorce and sickly child.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	take care

“Oh, for goodness sake!”

Steve grumbled as he took _another_ burnt bag of popcorn out of the microwave. He racked his brain clear in order to figure out what the hell he was doing wrong. How does one ruin food where you don’t even have to do anything? He realised when he came out of the ice that he would have to adapt to the 21st century and its new additions. He forgot how frustrating it could be.

It pained him to chuck the fourth blackened bag into the bin. Steve understood that it would take him some time to get used to modern ways, but it didn’t make it any less irritating when he couldn’t grasp the idea of something as simple as making popcorn.

The super soldier kicked the cupboard in annoyance, causing a small dent to appear in the maple wood. What made him even more pissed off was that _nobody_ could empathise with his situation. How could they? Who would understand what it felt like to be amazed at the concept of emailing? To be in awe of the fact that food could now be delivered to your home?

“Jeez, Captain Rogers. What did the poor cupboard do to you?”

She was clearly one of the world’s best spies for a good reason. It was none other than his new partner, Natasha Romanoff, who had quietly sidled up next to him, observing the recently added dip in the furniture. 

This was the first time he had seen her in casual clothes. She looked completely different, dressed in a hoodie that seemed far too big for her and sweatpants that were fraying at the ends, compared to her skintight, black catsuit. It was strange seeing Natasha all domestic-looking. It caused an unusual, foreign feeling to unfurl inside of him. 

The two had only met a month or two ago and were far from friends. If Steve was honest, he was slightly intimidated by the redhead. Even now, as she looked about as dangerous as a puppy, he knew that looks could fool. He wasn’t so naive as to believe that she couldn’t put him in a choke-hold within a second if he pushed the wrong buttons.

“Sorry, Agent Romanoff,” he apologised sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just a bit frustrated with the microwave.”

“What’s up?” Natasha asked, turning her gaze away from the cupboard and glancing over at her… ( _blushing?)_ partner, who couldn’t seem to make eye contact with her.

He exhaled heavily and rubbed one hand over his tired face. “I’m trying to make popcorn in the microwave but I keep burning it. Although, I don’t know why. I followed all the instructions on the packet.”

No matter how much Natasha wanted to burst out laughing, she kept it inside. She honestly felt bad for the guy - he looked completely defeated. “Did they not have microwaves during the 1800s?”

“The microwave was first invented in 1946 and I went into the ice in 1945. Sue me for not being able to understand it.”

This time she did let out a soft chuckle. “Relax, Cap. Show me how you use the microwave.”

Almost instantly, a wave of pressure crashed over Steve. Here he was, a six foot tall guy, all muscles, a _superhero_ … being nervous in front of his co-worker. Nice.

Although, it wasn’t hard to see why. Natasha Romanoff could make anyone cower with just one look she sent their way.

He just didn’t want to show her how much of an idiot he truly was. She knew him as Captain America - a brave man with super strength and a desire to protect the people. She _didn’t_ know Steve Rogers - the sick little kid, the guy who wore his heart on his sleeve and _still_ didn’t know how to talk to women.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

Shit. He had only come back to earth when she started waving her hand in front of his face, looking quite amused. Now she must really think he’s a moron.

“Sorry. What were you saying again?”

“I said,” she emphasised slowly, “show me how you use the microwave.” 

Steve sighed and grabbed the last bag of buttered popcorn - the other flavours were gross - and stood in front of the microwave. “I press the button that makes the microwave door open,” he explained, feeling like a small child. “I put the bag of popcorn in the microwave…” Steve glanced over at Natasha for reassurance that his actions were correct so far and continued when she nodded her head. “I then close the microwave door, press the power button and then press the start button.”

Natasha immediately pressed the stop button on the machinery before the bag could start to pop. “Everything was correct, except for one thing, which is the cause of your burnt popcorn.” She pointed to the big, red button that read ‘POWER’. “You only use this if your food is basically frozen. Otherwise, it makes things super hot. So, just press the start button next time.”

Steve frowned and looked at the floor. Of course it was that simple. He was just the biggest imbecile in the world. 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. Even Captain America has to have some faults, right?” Steve peered up at his colleague and when he saw the genuine, soft smile she was giving him, he immediately felt at ease. 

“Thanks, Agent Romanoff. I really appreciate it,” he murmured shyly. 

Natasha gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before exiting the kitchen. “No problem, Steve.”

_Steve._

Not Captain Rogers. She called him _Steve._

He liked it. A lot.

***

Natasha groaned and grumbled as she carried the heavy cardboard box into the living room. She wasn’t one to usually complain. Her arms were toned and muscular, and she would’ve had no problem carrying the fucking bulky boxes if she hadn’t been doing it for the past thirty minutes whilst climbing endless flights of stairs. “Seriously, what the fuck are in these, Steve? Bricks? You building a house or something?”

Steve laughed through his nose as he strolled past her, easily carrying three boxes at once. Stupid super strength.

“Well, lucky for you,” he said, putting the boxes down and glancing over at his sweaty friend, “those were the last ones.”

“Thank the heavens above,” she sighed tiredly, feeling her limbs ache as she collapsed onto Steve’s plastic-wrapped couch. Her eyelids were already starting to feel heavy.

“And so?” he asked, arms stretched out in order to show off his new apartment. “What do you think?”

As much as Steve enjoyed living in the compound, he felt the need for his own space. There were only so many experiences of finding unknown underwear in the kitchen that one could handle. 

And besides, the idea of inviting Natasha around to _his_ apartment to hang out sounded so much more gratifying than just meeting in the lounge and settling on whatever Netflix had to offer. Not to even mention the kissing noises coming from Stark _every single damn time_ the two of them interacted. It was all a bit much for him. 

“I think,” she said, “that it looks empty. So, I can’t really judge.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. She had a point, but he had no problem visualising how his new living space would look. Once he had put up a few decorations, bought some new furniture, the place would be home. 

His train of thought had been broken by the sound of Natasha’s rumbling stomach, making some sort of whale call. “Yeah, I think that means I’m ready to eat after all this labour,” she laughed.

“I would offer to cook you something but you seem miserable enough as it is.”

“And you also have nothing in your fridge.”

“That too,” he added on. “Want to grab lunch at that one cafe? The one near the park with the broken swings.”

“I thought you would never ask.”

“Great,” he said and gave her that typical boyish grin of his. “I’m just going to change my shirt quickly,” he announced, grabbing his black duffel bag from where it was situated on the kitchen island. Before he turned to walk to his new bedroom, he added, “Could you do me a favour? Please grab my sketchbook and pencils. They should be in the ‘miscellaneous’ box if I’m not wrong.”

She did a playful salute in response. “On it, Cap.”

Natasha reluctantly stood up from the couch and examined the room for any signs of the box. She eventually found it on top of the box labelled ‘kitchen items’. The redhead scratched through odds and ends in search for the desired item.

Just as she laid her eyes upon the well-used sketchbook, another item caught her eye. A photo. Or, a photo frame, to be exact.

Natasha cautiously picked up the wooden frame and a wide smile appeared on her face before she could stop it, her heart unexpectedly doing a flip in her chest. It was a picture of the two of them, taken at Stark’s birthday party. He had decided on a Hawaiian theme - mainly for the hula dancers - and the soldier and the spy had coincidentally showed up in matching floral patterned shirts. Obviously, they had to take a photo to commemorate it.

A warm feeling was slowly filling up her whole being. She had no idea he had printed the image out, let alone frame it. It was a nice reminder that she was clearly important in his life. Natasha hoped he knew that she felt the same way about him.

She let her fingertips graze over Hawaiian Steve’s face. He was so shy and hesitant to take the pictures, claiming he wasn’t photogenic and that Natasha would look better standing alone. Even as she studied the image now, a few months later, you could still see his bashfulness practically radiating off of him. In all honesty, Natasha thought it made him look so attractive.

_Wait, what?_

“Hey, did you find it?”

Clearly, she was losing her touch if someone - Steve Rogers, of all people - could sneak up on her like that. The sound of his voice interrupted her thinking and caused the photo frame to fumble in her hands. If she wasn’t so quick, she probably would’ve dropped the precious thing. She wondered if he had noticed her slip-up.

“Huh?”

“Wow,” Steve said playfully, his lips turned upwards in a smug way. “Did I just scare _the_ Natasha Romanoff?”

Ah. So he wasn’t as blind as she thought he was.

She scoffed in response, trying to hide how flustered she was actually feeling. How long had he been standing there? “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself, Rogers. You merely caught me off guard.”

There was a twinkle in Steve’s eyes that showed that he was clearly entertained by the situation in front of him. However, that twinkle disappeared into thin air once his gaze lowered to the object in Natasha’s hand.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha followed his stare and realised what he had noticed. “I…”

“Nat-”

“Sorry, Steve. I… uh, I didn’t mean to snoop around. I was looking for your sketchbook and it caught my eye. I hope you’re not mad.”

The blonde was struck speechless for a few seconds until he cleared his throat and found his voice again. “No, um, it’s fine. I should be apologising.”

Now she was confused. He was sorry? She raised an eyebrow in question. “Why?”

Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot, something he always did when he was feeling embarrassed. “I should’ve asked you if I could frame it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

There was no way this man was real. He clearly didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Here she was, looking through his private stuff, and he felt the need to apologise to her? How did his brain work?

“I don’t think you could make me, or anyone else, uncomfortable if you tried,” she said. The corners of her lips turned upwards in a smile that got Steve’s heart racing even faster than it was from seeing Natasha’s discovery. The wooden frame was placed down carefully so she could cross the distance and place both hands on his shoulders. “I’m very touched that you framed it, Steve. Why would I be uncomfortable?”

He pulled out of her grasp and walked back a few steps, suddenly unable to look her in the eye due to his embarrassment. “I don’t know,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging. “I didn’t want to seem like a pervert or something.” He said it underneath his breath and his voice became softer as his sentence continued, but part of being a spy was having the ability to pick up on the faintest of noises. Natasha heard him loud and clear.

“What?” Natasha burst out in disbelief, unable to hold back her laughter. He was so cute. Like a little puppy.

“I don’t know!” Steve exclaimed, hands flying up dramatically before flopping down to his sides. “Some people may find it creepy that someone keeps a photo of them in their living space.”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, it is kind of weird...”

Steve’s face dropped before he could mask his emotions. So she did find it strange. He should’ve known better… Natasha would’ve found it sooner or later and they would end up having the conversation that they’re having right now. He should’ve just stuck to his initial idea of putting that picture in his wallet, like a normal person.

“I mean,” she continued, “a ninety-something year old framing a picture of himself and a beautiful, young lady? Sounds like jail time to me.”

The teasing tone in her voice couldn’t be missed. Steve let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and gave her a light punch to the shoulder. “Shut up, Romanoff. Do you want food or not?”

“Where did you even keep that picture?” Natasha asked while Steve held the door open for her.

“In my bedroom,” he admitted shyly. “That’s probably why you’ve never seen it before.”

“Rogers!” Natasha gasped and clutched a hand to her chest in a dramatic fashion. “You dirty, dirty boy!”

“This is why I never show you anything.”

“You have more stuff stashed away? Do you have a sex dungeon hidden in a secret location?”  
  


_“Romanoff!”_

***

_“Please,_ Steve.”

“I’m sorry, Nat. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird!”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

Steve groaned and ran a hand through his grimy hair. The mission they had just come back from was beyond exhausting and left the two feeling both physically and mentally drained. He was surprised he managed to carry his legs to his room at the tower. “Nat, you know I would do anything for you but…”

“Steve, I can’t do it myself.” It didn’t take a genius to identify the desperation in her voice, but only a close friend could see how it was almost _torture_ for her to be this vulnerable. _Natasha Romanoff_ was asking for help. He knew that she must’ve been really struggling if she resorted to that.

“Can’t you just wash with one hand?”

Natasha gave Steve a look that told him he had just asked the dumbest question in the world. As he thought about his sentence, he realised that maybe she was right.

Natasha started off the mission with a nasty blow to the shoulder that was meant for her face. Naturally, being the person she was, she brushed it off and carried on when he showed concern for her. It seemed now that the pain was too unbearable for her to pretend. She couldn’t even lift up her arm without tears stinging her eyes.

“You know, Rogers? It would’ve been so helpful if the serum gave you super brains along with the super strength,” she deadpanned, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “Does washing my hair with one hand sound very effective to you?”

“Sorry,” he apologised shyly and sat next to her, careful not to brush up against her injured shoulder.

Natasha sighed heavily and turned to Steve with a worn out expression painted on her face. The mission made her look like she had aged overnight but he knew it was just dirt and whatnot. “Why does it bother you so much?” Natasha queried, narrowing her eyes as if to study him better. “I told you we’ll both wear swimming costumes.”

_Because I’m scared that I’ll like it more than I should._

Steve decided on a lamer answer. “I don’t know,” he murmured uncomfortably, never making eye contact. He was an open book and Natasha could read him like the alphabet. Not looking at her was his best defence mechanism.

The pair sat in silence for a while until a squeak of the bed knocked Steve out of his daze. He noticed Natasha was no longer next to him, but walking towards the door. “Where are you going?”

Natasha might as well have been Elsa with the icy glare she gave him. She leaned against the door frame with her good shoulder and hissed, “I’m going to find someone who isn’t an ass and isn’t weirded out at the idea of fucking washing their friend’s hair.”

That kind of hurt. He deserved it though. He _was_ being an ass.

He didn’t want to be an ass, though. He was just protecting himself.

Steve had been harbouring feelings for Natasha for some time now. He didn’t completely understand what they were, but he didn’t feel like exploring them. He would just let them sit and hope that they would go away. If he washed Natasha’s hair… it would be so intimate. He would be opening a can of worms and it would probably be extremely difficult to close it.

But before anything, Natasha was his friend. An incredible friend. And he was being a shit one in return.

“Wait, Nat!”

She snapped her head in his direction, an intimidating - almost _threatening_ \- look on her face. Her patience was clearly running on empty so he knew he had to act quickly. “I’ll do it. I’ll wash your hair.”

“No, I don’t need your help. I’ll go ask Maria and leave you alone.”

Natasha was about to leave the room and that was when Steve flew from the bed to block her path. “I _want_ to do it,” he said firmly. She still didn’t look convinced. “Please?” He gave her his best puppy dog eyes - he’d been told on numerous occasions that it charmed the ladies - and prayed that it would be enough. 

“Fine,” she said, and that was it. Nothing else was added to her sentence and it was more than enough for him.

He let out a sigh of relief and a smile appeared on his face before he even knew what was happening. “Okay,” he beamed. “Good. I’m glad you agreed.”

Natasha didn’t look amused in the slightest but he didn’t blame her. “I’m going to my room to sort myself out. Run the bath so long, would you?”

And before he could add anything in, she was out of his room.

_A bath?_

_Oh, no. This was not good._

Steve assumed that a simple shower would do the trick but he was obviously wrong. A bath with Natasha… that was only asking for trouble.

However, he didn’t have time to dwell over it. Natasha would return to his room and if Steve was still rooted to the same spot where she left him, she would ask him a million questions. And what could he say? 

_Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about how I might have some sort of feelings for you and that having a bath with you would make everything so much more complicated. But I’ll go get ready now!_

Ha.

So, Steve did what she asked him to do. He put on his favourite swimming trunks - the one with dinosaurs on them that Tony always made fun of - and started preparing the bath. 

Running the bath water, throwing in fragrant liquids… it caused the reality of his situation to really kick in. He was really about to take a bath with one of his best friends.

Just as Steve started to pace around the bathroom in a blind panic, thoughts buzzing around, a soft knock at his bathroom door brought him out of his head. “It’s open,” he said, his voice coming out more as a squeak than anything else. 

Nothing could have ever prepared him for the moment she would walk through his door. No amount of talks from Bucky, no amount of internet searching… _none_ of that could have prepared Steve for the heavenly sight before him.

Natasha Romanoff was a goddess. Creamy skin that gave her the appearance of a porcelain doll, curves that his hands were aching to explore…

She was perfect. 

Not that he wasn’t already aware of this fact. It was just a gentle reminder.

He felt like he was in one of those awful romantic comedies that Natasha always forced him to watch. Boy sees girl. Time slows down. Cheesy music plays in the background Boy’s heart speeds a million miles per hour. Girl smiles. Boy continues to stare. Girl looks slightly confused but also amused. Girl snaps her fingers in front of boy’s f-

“Steve Rogers? I’m looking for a Steve Rogers. Is he in there?”

Why did he zone out so damn often when it came to her? 

Blood rushed to his cheeks as his body’s automatic response to embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I kind of zoned out there.”

The one side of her mouth lifted into a smirk that Steve had grown to love. “Really?” Natasha gasped in false surprise, raising a slender hand to her chest. “I hardly noticed.”

The soldier let out a soft laugh that was followed by him scratching the back of his neck nervously. Gosh, how was he going to do this? If he was already having heart palpitations just by looking at her, how was he going to handle it when he started to touch her? When he felt the weight of her between his legs? When he ran his fingers through her silky, red hair?

Shit, he was losing focus again. Fortunately, he managed to bring himself back to Earth before she could call him out on it and tease the hell out of him.

“Yeah, yeah, Romanoff.”

Steve climbed into the tub first - only then did he realise how damn small it was - took the two bottles of hair product that Natasha was cradling, and then held her good arm to guide her into the warm water. She supported her weight on him and when it looked like her knees buckled, his hands instinctively flew to her hips. She shot him a smile and a quick, “Thanks,” as he eased her between his legs. 

“So,” she started once she was safely seated, “am I your first?”

Steve practically choked on air when he heard her question. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

Although he couldn’t see her face and its expression, he could virtually feel the smirk radiating off her. She knew exactly what she was doing. “You know,” she said innocently, “am I the first girl you’ve ever shared a bath with?”

“Will it make you happy if I say yes?”

Natasha’s head spun around to gawk at her partner in disbelief. “There have been other girls?”

“No,” he admitted as he bit his lip.

“Good,” Natasha smiled as she firmly patted his cheek.

Steve sighed. He wasn’t good at the whole ‘foreplay’ thing. He wasn’t good at _anything_ that dealt with the opposite gender. Once, a girl winked at him at one of Tony’s parties. The action caught him so off guard that he spilt his whole cocktail on his crisp, white shirt. Clint still refuses to let him forget about it. 

Steve decided to get the show on the road. The quicker he washed her hair, the quicker he could get out the tub, forget that the whole incident ever happened, and store whatever feelings he had back in his brain’s basement. So, he doused Natasha’s hair with the bath’s attached sprayer, squirted the coconut-scented shampoo into his palm and rubbed it into a slight foam in his hands.

When he actually touched her, that was when everything started to spiral.

It wasn’t immediate. He applied the shampoo once but it seemed that her hair was so dirty that it didn’t want to take the shampoo. No froth formed and the bath water became so murky that he had to drain it and refill the tub.

Once the second round of washing came around, the energy in the room seemed to electrify. Well, at least on Steve’s side. The amount of pressure his fingers applied had shifted, increasing slightly to really cleanse her scalp. He expected her to enjoy it - who didn’t love a little pampering? A good massage was really appreciated in their line of work. 

What he _didn’t_ expect was a small moan to escape her mouth. It was so quiet and the moment passed so quickly that if his hearing wasn’t better than the average human’s, he would have believed that his mind was playing tricks. His notions were confirmed when she spoke up and murmured, “Mmm. Gosh, Rogers, I guess the rumours are true. You _are_ good with your hands.”

This woman kept leaving him speechless in one way or the other. His hands retreated from her red hair and his baby blues went wider than saucers. “What?” Steve spluttered. “W-who said I’m good with my hands?”

Natasha giggled - yes, _giggled._ She didn’t even need to see his face to know that he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “You’re so gullible, Rogers. From the way you keep reacting to my statements, I would think you have a secret lover.”

“Wouldn’t you be happy,” he remarked quietly. All the moments of Natasha trying to set him up with some random woman played in his head. He knew she was only trying to be a good friend but having to decline date after date was just painful for both parties. His work made it nearly impossible for him to have a stable relationship and he was positive that most of the women just wanted to say that they shagged Captain America. 

She slapped his knee. “Hey! Did I say you could stop?”

So, he did as the lady asked and continued to scrub her scalp until all he was certain that all - or, at least, most - of the dirt was out of her hair. He took the liberty of washing his own hair with the tropical smelling shampoo while her conditioner was on. He then rinsed the both of them down until they were left feeling squeaky clean and fresh.

Steve had finished his duties over ten minutes ago. He should have sprang out the water immediately, thrown a towel in her direction and then locked himself in his closet. But he decided to stay in the water. It was still warm and found himself actually relaxing for once. Of course he was going to relish in it a bit longer.

And he thoroughly enjoyed himself. The partners chatted about every topic and there was never a lull in the conversation. Dialogue always flowed easily between the two of them but Steve found that something was different this time. He couldn’t place his finger on it exactly but he liked the feeling it gave him. He felt light.

“Thanks for the help, Rogers,” Natasha said softly as Steve braided her red waves. The two of them, having retired from the bathroom, were now sitting cross-legged on his bed. He had helped her into one of his hoodies and his smallest sweatpants so she didn’t freeze to death in her skimpy two-piece. “Might have to get you to wash my hair from now on.”

“Then I want some sort of payment. A back massage after a mission wouldn’t be too bad.”

“Ha!” Natasha snorted. “In your dreams.”

“What’s wrong with that? I see it as a fair exchange. I basically give you a free head massage when I wash your hair, anyway.”

“It’s definitely _not_ a fair exchange. You just rub my scalp, I have to touch your whole back,” she pointed out. 

“Are you just worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me, Romanoff?”

Natasha’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. Who was this man and what had he done with Steve? Where did he even learn a line like that? Did he watch a YouTube tutorial?

But most importantly… _why did his words affect her so much?_

The thought of running her hands over Steve’s muscular back sent a shiver right down her spine. She was so, _so_ glad that her back was towards him. She was certain that her face matched the shade of her hair. 

“Uh, I was just joking,” he chuckled nervously as tied off the end of her braid.

Shit. She probably stayed silent for too long. She couldn’t let him think that _he_ had left her speechless, that _he_ had the upper hand. Natasha Romanoff was the queen of being a tease.

Natasha turned around and rearranged herself so that she was practically in his lap. “No,” she said breathlessly. She cupped his chiseled face and brought him closer so that only centimetres were left between them. “It’s _you_ that I’m worried about, Rogers. Don’t want you getting too excited.” 

Then she slapped him in the most endearing way she could, before climbing off of him with one arm.

Steve’s eyes followed her until she exited his room. He exhaled deeply as the door closed behind her, wondering what the _hell_ had just happened. How was it possible that someone could leave him dumbfounded like that? It was like he lost the ability to form words the second she came too close. 

Steve shut his eyes and laid his head against his headboard as he tried to make sense of the events that just took place. _And why it left him with his heart pounding in his ears._ Gosh, everything was so fucked up now. He knew he should have never agreed to wash her hair. While Natasha was probably painting her fucking nails, he was left there with his mind screaming five hundred different things and his heart fit to burst.

Natasha must have cast a spell on him before she left. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of her face. Her beautiful face that God clearly took His time with. Her eyes… has mankind ever witnessed a prettier shade of green? They suited her fiery hair so well. He was beyond thrilled that he got the honour of running his fingers through her red locks. And gosh, _her smile_ …

“Urgh!” Steve grumbled, smashing his skull against the wooden headboard. “Get a grip, Steve,” he muttered angrily to himself. “She’s your friend, for goodness sake.”

But she wasn’t _only_ a friend in his eyes. And when Steve finally acknowledged the elephant in the room the next day, gazing over at her as she tried to steal a strawberry from Tony’s plate, a huge weight fell off his chest. It was tiring to constantly battle with himself internally. He knew he liked Natasha Romanoff.

He always knew. He was just too scared to admit it.

***

Natasha considered herself a patient person. She had to be patient, it was a crucial part of being a spy. Sometimes, you just had to sit around before moving in on the target. Otherwise, they might smell a rat and the mission would be over before you even got started. So, yes, Natasha Romanoff was _very_ patient.

However, when it came to Steve Rogers, it was a whole different story. 

The spy had been waiting for the soldier for almost an hour now. He promised that he would drop by the compound so they could finish the third season of RuPaul’s Drag Race. It was one of the first things she showed him as his introduction to the modern world and they never watched an episode without each other. If it had been any other show, Natasha’s feet would have been propped up on the coffee table and the popcorn she made would have been eaten already. 

Muttering Russian curses under her breath, Natasha picked up her phone and dialled his number _again._ Probably the tenth time in twenty minutes.

_Hi, this is Steve. I’m sorry I’m not available right now but if you leave a message after the tone, I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks._

“For fuck’s sake,” Natasha hissed angrily. That was the last strike. At that moment, her patience was non-existent. Throwing on a jacket and grabbing her keys, she was fuming as she stomped her way to her car. Steve had another thing coming his way. Nobody liked an angry Natasha. 

She was quickly marching towards his apartment, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but slowed down when she heard a familiar tune coming from his place. She slowly approached his door and put her ear to the wood. Then, she heard voices. Males voices that she recognised. 

“Come on, man! Why are you still crushing my toes?”

“Can’t I make a mistake? At least I’m getting the hang of it.”

“My feet are gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“I’d rather bruise your feet than hers.”

_Sam and Steve._

She wasn’t surprised by Steve’s voice - it was his apartment, after all - but it was Sam’s that caught her off guard. Was that why Steve was late to their Netflix session? He was hanging out with Sam?

But as she heard more of the conversation, it seemed like the purpose of their gathering was for business rather than pleasure.

“For some reason, I thought you would be better at this.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Captain America seems to be good at everything.”

“Captain America, maybe. There are many things that _Steve Rogers_ cannot do. Dance, bake, take a selfie… the list is endless.”

Natasha had to snicker at that last comment. It was too true.

“I still don’t understand why you asked me to help you and not Natasha.”

“The fact that she already taught me and I’m still failing is embarrassing. Next time we dance, I have to look polished. Otherwise, her efforts were for nothing.”

“I doubt she thought that it would take one lesson to turn you into Jennifer Lopez.”

“The point is, I don’t want to look like a fool in front of her. Is that so bad?”

“Aww, you trying to impress your girl, Rogers?”

“She’s not _my girl_. Now, can we do more swaying and less talking?”

Natasha felt like there was a rock in her throat when she tried to swallow. All of the anger she felt towards Steve had wholly dissipated. Was he really trying to perfect his dancing… _for her?_

She needed to see this with her own eyes. She silently cracked the door open (he never locked it - so naive) and stuck her head in.

“Do you normally leave room for Jesus when you dance with Natasha?”

“Gosh, Sam, I’ve only danced with her once. I just don’t want to hold you so close.”

“If I put on a red wig and bat my eyelashes, will it get you in the mood?”

“If I put some tape over your mouth, will you shut up?”

The spy had to physically stop her laughing by biting the inside of her cheek. The whole scene taking place in front of her was better than any Netflix series.

But then Sam actually did stop talking, and the music in the background became more audible. It felt like it was blaring in her ears once she recognised it and her throat felt even more constricted than before.

_As Natasha opened the bathroom door, a gust of steam rushed out the door. A long, hot shower was definitely what she needed after a gruelling day of paperwork. She loved her job and she loved bringing justice to the world, but the admin that came with it was a real pain. She was so grateful for Steve who would take over when she needed a break and who would even give her head massages while he looked over the files._

_Throwing on the hoodie he left on the bed, she walked into the living room of their safehouse to see what the man was up to. She found him in the kitchen, humming to whatever music was playing in his ears and getting started on their dinner._

_Natasha snuck up on her friend and roughly grabbed his shoulders, all while yelling in his ear, “What’s for dinner, chef?”_

_Steve wasn’t one who flinched easily, but even he gave a small jump at the surprise attack on him. “Geez, Nat. You couldn’t have just asked me calmly?” Then, in his peripheral vision, he noticed what she was wearing and did a double take. “Is that mine?”_

_“Maybe. Maybe not.”_

_He shook his head as he chuckled at her response. The sight of her in his hoodie made his insides do flips, but he wasn’t about to go and dispense that information. “To answer your question, we’re having macaroni and cheese."_

_She nodded happily, more than satisfied with their meal for the night. Her eyes then fell on the white earbuds in his ears and she became curious. “What are you listening to?” But before he could answer, her curiosity got the best of her and she plucked one out to put in her own ear._

_She could easily identify the voice of Stevie Wonder but the melody didn’t sound familiar. Natasha cocked an eyebrow in slight surprise, “You like Stevie Wonder?”_

_“I’m trying to get through all the eras of music I missed while in the ice. I’m currently at the 60s,” he shrugged._

_“Well, let’s see what else you have, Grandpa.” Natasha held out her hand and Steve handed his phone to her without saying anything else. He liked the song that was currently playing but he knew he would never win an argument against Natasha. It had never happened before and he doubted that it would happen in the future._

_Natasha zoomed past a bunch of songs that didn’t interest her or that she didn’t recognise. Marvin Gaye, The Beatles, Elvis Presley... the list went on._

_Then, the sound of rich violins and a soulful voice filled her entire being. She could put a name to the tune very quickly, seeing that it was such an iconic song. She nodded her head in an approving manner. “Now_ this _is a good one.”_

_“You know it?”_

_“Well, duh,” she rolled her eyes. “_ At Last _is only one of the most romantic songs of all time.” And then, before she could stop her big mouth, she suggested one of the silliest ideas she’d ever had. “Wanna dance?”_

_Steve’s head shot up like a rubber band and his eyes widened. She could see just how terrified he was from the way his voice trembled and she wished that the earth would swallow her whole. “Um... I don’t know, Natasha.”_

_Of course he wouldn’t want to. The paperwork must have made her lose her common sense._

_She chuckled awkwardly, ripped the earphone out of her ear and started to slowly head towards her room. She was ready to stay in bed for the rest of the night and skip dinner. Maybe - hopefully - she would die of embarrassment in her sleep. “It’s okay, it was a dumb suggestion,” she said while feigning a smile. “I don’t know why I said that.”_

_“Natasha-”_

_“I’m just going to check on something in the room real quick. Call me when dinner is ready.” But he wasn’t stupid; he knew she wouldn’t be back. She’d probably fake that she was sleeping._

_“Natasha,” he stated more firmly. The Captain America tone was coming out. “I want to dance with you. I’ve just never done it before.”_

_Oh. She wasn’t expecting that._

_“You’ve seriously_ never _slow danced before? Like, ever?”_

_“No,” he shook his head and stared at the floor, practically ashamed of himself. Natasha found it kind of precious in some weird way._

_“Well,” she said, taking a daring step forward and offering her hand out. Oh gosh, she was doing the thing again. The thing she does where she makes foolish decisions. “I’d be happy to teach you.”_

_Steve looked at her hand like it was a foreign object and Natasha retracted it as if she’d been burned. “Only if you want to. No pressure,” she added on quickly. Why was their dialogue so uncomfortable?_

_There was a pregnant pause and at this point, Natasha was really considering to just leave the safehouse and walk back to the Avengers compound. “I’d love for you to teach me,” he finally replied. His smile was soft as his voice and it made Natasha feel like she was floating._

_After gazing at each other for a few seconds, Natasha cleared her throat and clapped her hands together. “Okay! Um,” she bounced on the balls of her feet nervously. “Firstly, you need to come closer. I don’t bite.”_

_“_ Most of the time _you don’t bite,” he teased as he stepped towards her, a smile playing on his face to hide the nerves._

_“Hey, don’t sass the teacher.” Natasha unplugged his earphones and played Etta’s crooning voice out loud. Once they were only a metre apart from each other, she reached over and took Steve’s larger hands in her own. It was hard not to react to the delicious shiver that travelled down her spine. What was going on with her? Was she going to get her period soon or something? “Placement is crucial. Your hands go on my waist and mine rest on your shoulders.”_

_It was quite an amusing sight in front of her. Steve’s blush was quite evident once his hands were on her. His response to her body was almost immediate and Natasha was chuffed to say the least. She was happy to know that she had that effect over him. She would make a mental note for the future._

_“Uh, now what?” He asked it so cautiously, like the type of kid who was scared to raise their hand in class. Absolutely adorable._

_“There’s really no special method to it, Steve. You just gotta feel the music and go with it.”_

_“I don’t know how to_ feel the music _,” he protested with a pout._

_“The first step would be to stop looking at your damn feet. I promise you, I’m much more interesting,” she wiggled her eyebrows in such an exaggerated way that it made Steve laugh. “And loosen up, Rogers. We’re dancing, not marching in the army.”_

_“Sorry,” he apologised with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It wasn’t difficult to see the uneasiness he was feeling. It was evident in his stiff body language and it made Natasha wonder if there was a deeper reasoning behind how uncomfortable he was._

_Then, like a massive pile of bricks, it hit her. It hit her hard._

_She honestly thought she was going to be sick, right in that moment, on the floor. What on earth possessed her to come up with the silly idea of teaching him how to dance, while all he wanted to do was dance with Peggy? She was clearly bringing up thoughts of what could have been between them and for some reason it made her chest feel tight._

_Her realisation must have been more obvious than she intended it to be because Steve let go of his grip on her waist and stepped back to take a good look at her. “Natasha? You okay?”_

_“I don’t think this was a good idea. I’m sorry.” She spoke the sentence all in one breath since it felt like all the air was knocked out of her lungs. She wondered if this was what the beginning of a panic attack felt like._

_“Why? What’s wrong?” Steve asked and gently grabbed her wrists in a silent plea for her to open up to him. He looked so genuinely concerned and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. After how many years of being alive, she was still learning how to accept the fact that people were allowed to worry about her. It was becoming easier due to all of her wonderful friendships but it was still difficult after years of brainwashing._

_“I… I just remembered that you were supposed to dance with Peggy,” Natasha murmured while frowning at the floor, never making eye contact, like a coward. “I would never want to make you uncomfortable, Steve.” Yeah, she liked seeing him squirm when she would make a suggestive comment or turn bright red whenever they had to be a fake couple for a mission, but that was a whole different type of_ uncomfortable. _Taking Peggy’s place was never her intention and she knew it was a role she would never be able to fulfil. Peggy was everything that she wasn’t. Peggy was_ a good person. 

_The lump in her throat formed very suddenly and if he commented on her glistening eyes, she would blame it on allergies._

_Steve shrugged like Natasha had said something casual, not like she reminded him of his tragic past. “Yeah, I was supposed to dance with Peggy. I was also meant to get Burger King last week instead of having dinner at the tower.” That last sentence made her laugh, despite the moment being kind of serious._

_“Sometimes life doesn’t go the way you want it to go, but then it’s_ so _much better than you could have ever imagined.” The way his voice had turned so soft and the way that his eyes felt like it was penetrating her soul… it was way too much. Natasha had never felt more overwhelmed with emotion and it scared the shit out of her._

_Steve continues with his speech and steps a little closer into Natasha’s proximity, “If I got Burger King, I would have never had that amazing lasagna that Pepper made.” Etta’s lyrics are becoming quieter to Natasha as the pounding of her heart gets louder. “If I didn’t crash into the ice and if I went on my date with Peggy, I would’ve never met you…”_

_For someone who was a spy, she sure was terrible at masking her emotions during that moment. That was what Steve did to her, ever since they became friends. It was like… he gave one little nudge and all of her walls came crashing down. So she’s not surprised that Steve realises how much his little confession surprised her. Even a small child could tell what the wide eyes and the small gasp meant._

_“...and Tony and Sam and everyone else,” he adds on very quickly, the sentence basically mushing into one word. But his words were out there already, hanging in the air and she had no idea what to do with them._

_Before she could interpret what he’d meant by that, he was already speaking again. “No disrespect to Peggy. I’m really thankful for that time in my life, but I’m_ so _glad I’m here in this era.” The silence that follows after that isn’t awkward, it isn’t even uncomfortable. The silence is filled with so many things left unsaid, so many possibilities and so many questions._

 _Natasha honestly felt bad that she hadn’t uttered one word during this whole situation but she was left speechless - and that didn’t happen often. She could see the wheels turning in Steve’s head as he was trying to figure out how she was feeling. Normally, he would’ve been successful in figuring it out but this time the answer remained unclear. The only reason was because_ she _didn’t even know what she was feeling._

_Steve cleared his throat after a while and then held out his large hand in offering, “So, Natasha Romanoff, it would be an honour if you danced with me.”_

_She knows she has to say something now. He probably would end up going into cardiac arrest from the uncertainty and she wouldn’t blame him. She would feel the same. Instead of giving the mushy answer she knows that he’s secretly hoping for, she decides to play it safe and hide behind humour. “That was cheesier than the macaroni you were about to make.”_

_The sigh of relief that Steve lets out is heavy and it causes a pang of pain in her heart. She can see he wants to say something else but the conversation drained her to an extent and she doesn’t want to talk anymore. She takes the hand that was left hanging, puts it on her waist and wraps both of her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you’re here too,” she whispers on his neck. The only words said for the rest of their dance were coming from Etta in the background as they swayed._

A loud string of curse words brought Natasha out of her daze. It came from Sam and she noticed how he basically smashed the speaker to turn the music off. He’s yelling at Steve for some reason but she’s not really paying attention. Her mind is clouded with a multitude of thoughts and all of them terrify her. The main thing that sticks out for her is the fact that Steve seriously slow danced with Sam _just_ so he could impress her. Who the hell does something like that?

Steve Rogers, apparently. 

Steve Rogers. Her best friend and her partner. The first man - after Clint - that she learned to trust with her life. The one who always buys her her favourite coconut cookies when she’s feeling down. He’s the only person that she’ll allow to patch her up after a mission and she’d rather die than admit it to him, but she secretly adores it when he takes care of her like that. The way he’d handle her like the most precious item in the world and then softly place a kiss on the injured area once it was taken care of… it set off a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. It was almost like a feeling of…

Love.

Mortified, Natasha shook her head wildly as if it would get rid of all the thoughts buzzing around. She was being absolutely ridiculous. _Love_ wasn’t for her and it would _never_ be for her. And she was pretty sure Steve knew just as well as she did that relationships never worked in their career. Not that he was looking for a relationship. Especially not one with her. 

Could one even imagine it? The Black Widow and Captain America together. A product of the Red Room and the epitome of goodness. What a joke.

“Nah, fuck this, man! I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. The only person who shouldn’t be able to walk after interacting with you is Natasha.”

Okay, that was a good one. Totally untrue, but funny nonetheless.

“Come on, Sam! I’m not doing it intentionally!”

But Sam’s mind was already made up as he grabbed his jacket draped over the couch and headed towards the front door.

“Shit!” Natasha hissed in panic. She didn’t want them to know that she was watching this whole time - it would just become way too messy. The spy, just as silently as she opened it, quickly closed the door. Her quick thinking kicked in and she decided to simply knock on the door so it would seem like she just arrived then. 

The second Natasha’s fist came into contact with the wood, there was a lot of shuffling and whisper-screaming coming from inside Steve’s apartment. She had to stifle a laugh just in case they heard her but it was difficult when she knew two of her friends were probably panicking and running around like headless chickens. 

Steve eventually answers the door, looking very flustered, and he sounds quite out of breath when he casually says, “Hey, Nat. What brings you here?”

She had to raise her eyebrow for that one. “Oh, just decided to pop in and check if you’re alive since you didn’t show up for our Netflix party.”

He smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck that had now turned slightly red. “Sorry about that. My bike wasn’t working and I was trying to fix it.” In any other instance, based on the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the flush of his cheeks, she might have believed him. However, she decided to let it slide. This would just be a situation that she’d keep in the back of her mind for blackmail at a later stage.

They ended up going back to the tower in Natasha’s car, after Steve _insisted_ on watching Netflix there rather than at his apartment. Raja rightfully won the season and Steve sulked right up until dinner time, where they split her leftover pizza from last night. It was only when she offered to go buy them milkshakes that he perked up. Such a little kid.

Natasha pulled her jacket around her tighter as she stepped out of her Corvette, due to the biting wind. She convinced herself that her reason for holding Steve’s hand was to keep warm. “Did you see that, Rogers? Notice how I actually _locked_ the car behind me?”

“Whatever, Natasha.”

“What if someone tried to rob you? How would you ever survive?” She held her free hand to forehead and spoke in such a melodramatic tone, looking like a maiden from some olden day film.

“Well, Romanoff,” he had that boyish grin on his face that Natasha had grown to love, “luckily, I have you to protect me.” Then he kissed her hand so gently, never breaking eye contact, and she could have sworn that her heart melted on the spot. 

And she really wanted to kiss him, right then and there. _Desperately_ wanted to grab the back of his neck and pull him down to meet her mouth. If Steve didn’t squeeze her hand and bring her back to her senses, she might have made a huge fool of herself and ruined their whole friendship. 

Maybe it would have been worth it. But for now, she would be satisfied with just holding his hand and stealing glances.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is the first time i'm writing fanfic in like four years lol so please bare with me. i only plan to continue this story if people seem interested so please let me know :) thank you!


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